


Magnet

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Mohinder is surprised at his lab by Sylar and Adam</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnet

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Drawn Out Confessions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/87679) by [levitatethis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis). 



> Inspired by the prompt from fullonswayzeed : "They had nothing to say to each other."

_Someone else tell you what you’re living for   
Been knocking you down, now you’re looking for more   
Then the only sound you hear is a closing door   
Been looking for peace, but they’re bringing you war   
_**-Sam Roberts, Brother Down**

They had nothing to say to each other.

Which was not the same as, they had nothing to say. Beneath the burning eyes, below the twisted smirk and defiant resolve there blazed a raging fire of frustration and confusion, threats and declarations, desperation and saddened remembrances.

Held in the barricaded prism of gray matter, the words run over each other with little rhyme or reason. If just one of those random words was to break free and latch itself to an escaped utterance it would unleash a flood of incoherent veraciousness, an authentic truth disguised as gibberish.

Sylar’s anticipation of the meeting should have found him better prepared. But Mohinder in front of him always produces hesitancy in his actions and words. The unexpected visit was the perfect excuse for Mohinder’s mind to go reeling and yet this time around he is the one who summons the courage to speak first, hoping the words that flow out make sense.

“What the hell do you want?”

“Manners, Mohinder,” Sylar reacts quickly. “What will our guest think?”

At the mention of the other person present in the lab Mohinder glances at the young blonde man standing just beyond Sylar, watching Mohinder closely with a bemused expression. Stepping forward an English accent fills the gap between them while he reaches his hand out.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Suresh. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

Mohinder eyes the formal gesture suspiciously, prompting the man to continue the introduction.

“I’m Adam Monroe.”

Mohinder’s eyes shoot up to Adam’s as erratic bits of information, from Company files to accounts of Peter’s imprisonment and near manipulation into unleashing a deadly epidemic upon the world to Hiro’s broken heart, shutterbug through his mind.

Adam turns with a smile to Sylar; then returns his attention to Mohinder, his hand still extended.

“I see my reputation has preceded me.”

“Bad news spreads fast,” Mohinder counters before he can restrain himself.

Behind Adam, Sylar’s smirk is coupled with an appreciative laugh.

Adam’s smile turns mocking. “Well now, that’s not fair. Everything you’ve heard has been second hand.”

Gathering up what feels to be rapidly fleeing courage, Mohinder stands firm, refusing to let his eyes drift from Adam even though he can feel Sylar’s heated gaze on him.

“Judging by present company,” Mohinder steadily says, “I’d say the stories have some truth to them.”

Adam tips his head as if humored by the comment and drops his extended hand. He moves forward, stepping casually around Mohinder and heads further into the makeshift lab. Mohinder turns his gaze to follow the movements of a stranger he has heard so much—still unsubstantiated—about.

Mohinder analyzes Adam, in a fitted charcoal grey suit and white button down shirt—a subtle contrast to Sylar’s black suit with a grey t-shirt beneath and a sharp distinction to Mohinder’s dark blue jeans and paisley button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows—as he eyes microscopes and viles, lightly skirting his finger tips across syringes, and glancing curiously at the computer buzzing away on a desk off to the side.

“You would do best to mind yourself with me,” Adam suggests with the first trace of menace in his voice. He turns in place and directs stormy blue eyes at Mohinder. The distinct change from a few seconds earlier strikes at both Mohinder and Sylar.

“Many have tried. All have failed. I have survived greater tests of my strength than you could ever imagine,” Adam focuses a controlling and dismissive countenance on Mohinder.

Unexpectedly Mohinder walks towards Adam, going against every natural instinct he has to back up and protect himself. Pushing into Adam’s space Mohinder’s resistant demeanor stretches out before the harsh words he hurls forth.

“Yet here you are with little more than empty threats to show off your prowess. Am I supposed to be afraid?”

While Mohinder and Adam find themselves in a sudden face off, Sylar, who has stayed back to watch them act and react to each other, finds himself enamored with the sight before him. He has been in Adam’s position before, taking on Mohinder in a verbal sparring match, trying to figure out what bits of Mohinder’s brain are clicking into place. He has felt Mohinder’s defiance, the strength of his (sometimes misguided) convictions refusing to be beat down even when defeat hung in the air.

Watching a familiar scene unfold from a new vantage point, however, mesmerizes Sylar. He can hear Mohinder’s fear and see the nervous tension he is so desperately trying to keep hidden coursing through his body. Yet, Mohinder moves towards Adam, not away. Mohinder returns the threatening gaze, he does not look down. Every move that Mohinder makes captivates Sylar.

All blatant disregard for his own well-being, Mohinder seems like a kamikaze fighter pilot in the face of someone who could strike him down and live a thousand years to tell the tale.

From the outside looking in Sylar feels a previously acknowledged but underrated appreciation for the silent strength Mohinder calls upon. The extra validation comes when he sees Adam glance his way, past Mohinder, with shades of enjoyment in his eyes.

Sylar knows the expression that speaks a quick thought, unheard by Mohinder. Adam is impressed—with Mohinder; with Sylar’s Achilles Heal.

“Mohinder,” Sylar calls out and he proceeds forward with cautious step.

There is no reaction as Mohinder remains focused on Adam.

“Mohinder,” Sylar tries again and he feels the initial pangs of uncertainty, frustration—_jealousy, no, maybe_—at Mohinder’s lack of acknowledgement.

Another few steps and Sylar is just behind Mohinder’s right shoulder. Opening his mouth Sylar barely manages to get the “M” out when Mohinder looks behind him.

Steady, angry eyes cut off Sylar’s speech as Mohinder regards him questioningly.

“So you two are partners in psychopathy now?” Mohinder insults coolly.

Sylar slightly tenses at the words but keeps his unfazed appearance. A knowing smile plays along his lips.

“As if you don’t know,” Sylar teases and looks over at Adam. “Mohinder tends to attract the more…extreme segments of society.”

Still moving closer, past Mohinder and towards Adam, Sylar leans into his space and brings his lips closer to Mohinder’s ear.

“Must be that welcoming personality,” Sylar whispers half seriously, half jokingly.

Their eyes meet again while Sylar goes by and purposely places himself between Mohinder and Adam. As much as Sylar enjoys watching Mohinder thrown out of his comfort zone he prefers to be the reason why. The idea of a third party with his own designs in mind for Mohinder does not sit well with Sylar but he is not sure as to what exactly bothers him about the scenario.

Taking in the reality of Adam and Sylar, together in front of him in some kind of united front, Mohinder puts his verbal barrage on hold and tries to redirect the conversation.

“Whatever it is you think I’ll do for you—either of you—you’re sadly mistaken,” Mohinder insists.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Mohinder—I can call you Mohinder, right?” Adam replies, and smiles amusingly at Sylar’s back as he continues. “I’ve heard so much about you, I feel I know you.”

Sylar does not see the knowing look Adam rests on him alongside suggestive words, drawn from an exhaustive confession days earlier, that are spoken now with delicate precision for Mohinder’s benefit. Confused, Mohinder’s attention falls to Sylar whose gaze is unapologetically on him. Unprepared at his own lack of sureness, Mohinder fights a losing battle to return the gaze and is forced to look back at Adam, all the while pretending to remain unaffected.

Tired of the double speak Adam takes on a more serious tone.

“I know about your research…and your blood.”

Reactively Mohinder curls his hands into tight fists but keeps them at his side. He should have known Sylar would drag him further down the rabbit role with knowledge of his blood as well as the continued research, but to actually shove Adam in his face feels like a direct attack.

“It puts you in a very curious position with me,” Adam observes, breaking free from the tense standoff and beginning another stroll about the lab.

Briefly Sylar watches Adam’s turned back, a confident swagger with hands pushing the ends of the jacket back and settling in his pant pockets, before looking back to Mohinder. Much to Sylar’s annoyance Mohinder seems hypnotized by the immortal’s presence.

“You’re essentially powerless,” Adam goes on “and yet incredibly vital to what I do—what I intend to do.”

“And what would that be?” Mohinder questions unable to hide the touch of worry in his voice while wondering if the security camera is picking any of this up.

“To bring the world to its knees,” Adam says with unabashed honesty, stopping in place and turning to capture Mohinder in his look again. “To show the error of its ways.”

“By destroying it,” Mohinder cracks sardonically, stepping towards Adam refusing to bow before the fight he senses building on the horizon.

“By starting over,” Adam counters staying still, leaving it up to Mohinder to bridge the distance. “Humanity had its chance and blew it. It’s only fair to let the next species try.”

Bewildered at the response Mohinder repeats the words, “the next species?” and turns to look at Sylar. Mohinder’s expression contains a plea for clarification but seeing Sylar’s uncertainty Mohinder realizes that Sylar does not know much more about Adam’s plan than what is being hinted at. Frustration rolls over Mohinder and he turns back to Adam.

“You don’t want to jump start the world again, you want to end it,” Mohinder states.

Adam folds his arms across his chest and grins, enunciating, “Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.”

“You _are_ mad,” Mohinder mutters worriedly and takes a faltering step back.

In a matter of seconds Sylar is at his side staring relentless demands at Adam. Eyes to the floor; Mohinder senses Sylar next to him and trails his eyes along Sylar’s form up to his profile, and sees it set firmly on Adam.

“You said the intended hit list was person specific,” Sylar says mindfully. “Not the world population.”

A barely concealed irritation plays from Adam’s eyes and he says, “Don’t you worry, Sylar, our mutual murderer is still at the top of the list.”

Mohinder’s eyes go back and forth between them while his mind races with their words. The pieces find their matching fit and Mohinder utters the name with wonder, “Hiro.”

Adam and Sylar turn to him in surprise. Guarded and protective, Mohinder steps back again further from them, very consciously separating from the twisted creation surrounding him. He keeps backing up until he is stopped by the edge of the countertop digging into his back.

“Mohinder,” Sylar calls out to him and his tone wavers along the line between, ‘what did you think this was going to be,’ and ‘this is not what you think.’

Mohinder is beyond pathetic explanations. A defeated coldness flashes across his face and he glares at both of them. Callous concern settles in its place, masking the turmoil below. Sylar ignores the disparaging attitude being projected and follows his natural inclination to move closer to Mohinder, to reach out across the divide in some way.

“Mohinder,” Sylar says again trying to keep his voice softer in hopes that conveying a sense of calm will result in less hostile behavior.

“No,” Mohinder snaps at Sylar with his hand raised in a gesture to stop. “You don’t get to tell me to calm down. Every time we…”

Anxiously Mohinder looks about the lab. Running his hand through the mess of dark curls that frame his face, he begins muttering to himself, yet is still loud enough to be heard.

“…world domination—mass murderers—damn delusions of grandeur—stagnant vendettas…”

Mohinder’s glaring eyes single Sylar out.

“It’s never going to stop until…”

The broken confession, irate and desperate, claws at Sylar and arouses his anger at Mohinder for soliciting this feeling of understanding from him; for the plight bearing down on the him.

The building anger transforms itself in opposition to Adam for withholding such barbaric desires driven by personal grudges. In on itself the anger turns while Sylar works to convince himself that he matters most, that his own needs should surpass all others, that he should not be so taken with Adam’s span of lifetimes and experience of survival, and he should most definitely not be moved by Mohinder’s defiant being constantly forcing Sylar to rethink his actions, constantly drawing Sylar closer with the coded hint of a tattered but unbreakable bond that exists with no one else. A fury burns deep within Sylar’s cool exterior.

Any potentially reactionary assault of words is cut down by Adam’s leveled voice.

“You’re right. It won’t end—but with the proper precautions it does not have to be as cruel as you imagine.”

“Not as cruel as extinction?” Mohinder insists. “Surely you can’t be trying to convince me of your methods or intended outcome?”

“Not at all,” Adam says, “I wouldn’t think of it, but—,”

Adam approaches Sylar who has settled darkened eyes on him.

“We do have a mutual friend who I had been counting on. Unfortunately we were very rudely separated.”

A quizzical look appears on Mohinder’s face and disappears just as fast.

“And that means what to me?” asks Mohinder with as little emotion as possible.

Adam waits a moment before answering.

“Peter Petrelli—,”

Mohinder releases a dejected sigh at the expected name and Sylar scowls bitterly at the mention. Rolling his eyes, Sylar turns his back on Mohinder and Adam and tensely walks away.

Adam steamrolls forward, “...and I got to know each other quite well while we were both being held prisoner by your employer, my old friends—,”

“I know all about your manipulations of Peter. I will not let you turn him against those who actually care about him, against himself,” Mohinder seethes, his frustrations showing through the cracking stoic appearance.

Remaining unmoved by such an outburst Adam quickly replies with a slightly raised voice, “I’m the one who helped break him out of his prison—I’m the one who tried to free his mind!...It’s certainly more than you ever did for him.”

Mohinder’s stomach turns at the memory of past mistakes he still feels the need to atone for. Whenever he feels he is making some progress forward, righting wrongs, his weaknesses are shoved back in his face under unavoidable scrutiny.

“I would never intentionally hurt Peter,” Mohinder replies firmly, sounding more like he is trying to remind himself of the fact instead of making a declaration to Adam.

An aware grin arises on Adam’s face.

“I know. But he’s so trusting, so willing to believe, so…bendable with the right incentive…the things I could do,” Adam asserts. “Between you and me who do you think Peter will be more inclined to follow?

Mohinder’s mind races with the diverting possibilities and realizes they all end with Peter succumbing to Adam’s manic whims. Months earlier the diagnosis may have been different, but Nathan’s death had sent Peter on a downward spiral during which he had sentenced himself to a life of painful emptiness, lashing out at anyone who came near. Despite not seeing Peter in months an overwhelming need to protect him overcomes Mohinder. Readying himself to respond aggressively Mohinder hears the pounding of quick steps towards him. Casting his eyes to the right he sees Sylar stalking back their way.

Sylar has been listening to the strained exchange with a dull throb pulsing at the back of his brain. Once again he finds he is in the unwanted position of being on the outside looking in. Adding insult to injury, the conversation that so enwraps Mohinder and Adam is about a person whom Sylar vigorously despises, yet Mohinder seems predisposed to care for and Adam is most intent on including.

There is a constant battle Sylar feels with Peter, and even when Sylar wins he feels he is in the losing corner. Ability for ability Sylar understands why he and Peter would create a powerful, unstoppable weapon at Adam’s side. Still, the very idea of standing side-by-side Peter creep a litany of repulsion along Sylar’s itching skin; he should be enough.

There is nothing between Peter and Mohinder that comes close to the depth of what unexpectedly reached out nervously with wonder and then took a firm, clutching grip, never letting go, between Sylar and Mohinder. To hear Mohinder worry so personally for Peter’s safety hits at something inside of Sylar that he has willfully tried to ignore since those early days of them traveling the open road together.

The expression of expectation on Mohinders’s face as Sylar storms forward does little to dissuade Sylar’s anger.

“No one needs to concern themselves with Petrelli,” Sylar spits the name out.

“He was a mess before,” Sylar goes on, first looking at Mohinder and then adjusting his gaze over to Adam. “And he’s useless now. Our…_agreement_ made no mention of Petrelli—there’s no need to make any allowances now.”

With little delay Adam swiftly enters Sylar’s personal space with a commanding presence he manages to otherwise mask when he chooses to remain unnoticed.

A harsh whisper hisses across the now miniscule space between them, “Our agreement has flexible terms. I’ve already made one exception.”

Without thinking Sylar throws a quick glance, which he hopes goes unnoticed, towards Mohinder. Leaning into Adam, Sylar says, “There’s no comparison. I’ve already made that clear. You don’t want to push this.”

Mutual glowering in a silent battle of wills ensues, raising a worrisome tension that somehow weighs down the air.

“What the—I can’t believe you’re even entertaining this notion,” Mohinder’s voice smoothly crackles through the waging battle ground.

Sylar, ready with a dismissive retort on his lips, turns to address Mohinder and finds no insult forthcoming. Pissed off disappointment emanates from Mohinder and he imprisons Sylar in an accusing gaze.

“For all your proclamations, your justifications for who could be killed—yet you still called me when you were a faced with the possibility of mass, indiscriminate murder. But now this—,” Mohinder rants with the trace of a confused plea.

The truth of Mohinder’s desperate observation forces Sylar on the defensive.

“This is different.”

“Yes—this time you’re following someone else’s orders, shouldering the responsibility or placing it on someone else,” Mohinder laments with disgust.

“Your idealism does not serve you well,” Adam interrupts shifting his stance to face off squarely with Mohinder.

“Never did,” Sylar mutters and receives a glowering stare from Mohinder.

“Peter’s idealism made him a perfect candidate—,” Adam continues.

“You mean his amnesia, not his idealism,” Mohinder interjects.

“You think I couldn’t do the same to you?” Adam speaks over top of Mohinder’s defiant words. “I’m getting Peter—already have once—but I can’t wait to see what you’ll do about it…then you’ll see what I can do to—,”

“You played on a man who was essentially brain damaged,” Mohinder argues. “That doesn’t make you a master manipulator, it makes you a cruel incompetent one—,”

“Peter’s not some weak, impressionable child,” Sylar challenges Mohinder, a growing sense of unease over Adam’s intentions towards Mohinder gnaws at him as he attempts to refocus the conversation. “He followed questionable orders because it was in his nature to do so. Remove the rose-coloured glasses, Mohinder.”

“And what makes you any different at this moment, Sylar?” Mohinder demands.

Taking a deep breath, Sylar steps closer to Mohinder; bringing them no more than a foot apart. Penetrating eyes that refuse to be ignored stake their claim.

“I can take responsibility for my own actions. You’re always making excuses for Peter’s.”

Mohinder scoffs, “Responsibility? That’s a new development for you. I recall a time when it was everyone else’s fault.”

Shifting his eyes to Adam, just beyond Sylar’s shoulders, Mohinder sizes him up.

“Why are you here?” Mohinder asks slowly.

Smiling, Adam tilts his head in a vaguely coquettish gesture.

“No need to get into specifics all at once,” Adam says. “We’ve got time…all the time in the world, in fact.”

For a few seconds Mohinder lets the empty words percolate and then responds with irritation, “You’re still not getting me.”

“No, you’re not getting it,” Sylar clarifies, forcing Mohinder’s attention back on him. “This is happening—,”

“What is—,” Mohinder questions with a halted yell.

Sylar ignores the demand for details and continues the cryptic message, lowering his voice to a conversational tone meant for only them.

“You’re already involved, you just haven’t realized to what extent.”

Mohinder takes a deep sigh, briefly breaking eye contact, before mustering up a quiet courage again.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he asks quietly not meaning it to sound as personal as it does, momentarily forgetting Adam is still there listening to them.

Sylar gives Mohinder a simple smile. “I’m not doing this to you,” he says softly. “This is who we were always meant to be—moving within the same mechanism, in conjunction, two parts in relation, unable to truly work without the other—,”

“Even in resistance?” Mohinder mutters, the hint of a muted joke in his flat tone.

“Isn’t that when things become most clear?” Sylar asks knowingly.

Unblinking, their unbroken gaze whispers an old language with new words. The meaning is the same although the depth of what lies beneath has grown exponentially since days long passed away. This conversation has existed in many forms and although only limited movement is made with each occurrence it is a pattern they both fall into time and time again, unwittingly yet with awareness pushing for more. Whenever the conversation rears its head Sylar finds a quiet relief in reconfirming that this ‘tie that binds’ is not only felt by him.

Trying his best to ignore it, Mohinder loses himself to the struggle within as genuine curiosity and concern breach his guarded words and Sylar’s unwavering attention makes his breath catch in his throat.

“We’ll be in touch,” Adam announces signaling the end to the meeting but neither Mohinder nor Sylar withdraw from the increasingly intensifying gaze.

As Adam moves closer to them Sylar’s eyes flicker a quiet annoyance at the interruption. It is enough to get Mohinder to look away from Sylar towards Adam who is now eyeing them with a strangely contemplative look.

“So I just go on with my life, never knowing when you’ll show up again—ready to force my hand?” Mohinder irately asks.

“Force is such a strong word, Mohinder,” Adam patronizes. “Hopefully with some thought on your part it won’t come to that.”

Sylar watches Mohinder throughout the exchange and smiles to himself at the sight of the fiery resolve still rushing below the surface, seemingly frightened but not so easily controlled or broken. When Mohinder, trying to state his unflinching stand with steady piercing eyes, finally looks away from Adam he is given the most minute of nods by Sylar whom his eyes automatically go back to.

“Mohinder,” Sylar says in such a tone that it raises the hair on the back of Mohinder’s neck. Along with the held gaze as Sylar slowly turns away towards Adam, Mohinder recognizes the request for understanding meant to exist between only Sylar and himself.

Sylar turns his back and before Adam does the same he leans towards Mohinder and grins.

“It really was a pleasure to meet you,” Adam offers amusedly.

Refusing to respond Mohinder simply stands tall and folds his arms across his chest. He watches as Sylar and Adam head across the lab, stepping along the mural still colouring the floor. Sylar cuts through it without so much as a second glance while Adam sneaks a lingering look at the story it tells. Proceeding up the stairs to the front door only Adam looks back; with an over-emphatic grin as they leave.

Mohinder lets out the stale breath he has been holding in and his mind spins in a chaotic dance of words and situations, of faces and voices. He forces deep breaths in and slow exhalations, trying to slow down his pounding heart to a normal rhythm. Thinking more clearly Mohinder reaches into his pant pocket for his cellphone and dials Matt’s number.

Outside, Sylar knows what Mohinder is doing; he knows it before he turns his hearing on, but he keeps that knowledge quiet. He had already explained to Adam the phone calls that Mohinder would make immediately after their visit. Walking along the half busy sidewalks Sylar can feel Adam’s eyes on him and tries to ignore him until it becomes too much.

“What?” Sylar asks with a sideways glance.

“You were right,” Adam muses thoughtfully. “He is a challenge—but one that could prove to be very rewarding. You do well keeping him in line.”

“Hmmm,” Sylar mumbles only half focused on the next part of Adam and his plans. The other part of Sylar’s mind is noting the inaccuracy of Adam’s statement, mistaking truthful declarations for brainwashing mind control.

Sylar rushes to pinpoint the next time he can meet with Mohinder, away from everyone else, including Adam, to sort out their own plan of action. He is fairly certain that Mohinder understood his words and tone and, despite the phone call to Parkman and the others being the next step in Adam’s mission, Sylar is sure that Mohinder is also waiting to hear back from him for their own follow up steps. This is the only way that Sylar can ensure Mohinder’s survival—in anyone else’s hands those odds drop dramatically.

Suddenly Sylar feels a firm grip on his left arm pulling him back. Coming to an abrupt stop Sylar looks over to find Adam watching him with a demanding look of shiftless eyes and a pursed mouth.

“Is he going to be a problem for you?” Adam asks directly.

Sylar ponders the answer carefully as Adam’s eyes burn into him.

“No,” Sylar states clearly. “He’s going to be a problem for you.” 

  

**Author's Note:**

> Heroes Slash Awards  
> **Nominated for Best General Fic** (WINNER)
> 
> Mylar Fic Awards  
> **Nominated for Best Supporting Character Appearance, Male** (WINNER)


End file.
